Chapter 42

The moment Wen Xin saw him, it felt as if even her breathing had come to a halt.

She was standing at a table, her hand resting on its corner. The moment he stopped, she instinctively shifted her gaze downward, staring at the wood grain beneath her fingertips. She traced the patterns absently, as if trying to ground herself. She wanted to turn and leave, but for some reason, her feet wouldn’t move.

Cold sweat prickled her back.

Why was he here?

They were supposed to be worlds apart—one in the north, the other in the south. How could they have run into each other in such an unguarded moment?

The tall man in glasses, noticing the silence behind him, turned around. Seeing his companion standing still, his gaze locked onto a young woman, he was momentarily taken aback.

The girl wasn’t someone he had seen here before. She was dressed in a soft pink sweater, her features stunningly beautiful. She looked to be about eighteen or nineteen, but at the moment, she seemed so flustered under the man’s stare that she looked ready to crawl under the table.

“Zeyang, what is it?” the man with glasses asked, puzzled.

To the others in the room, it seemed like the man had only paused for a brief second before continuing inside. But to Wen Xin, that single moment felt like an eternity.

“Longzhou has the most tender and flavorful duck I’ve ever had. I’ve eaten at many places, but this one is by far the best,” the man with glasses said enthusiastically. “I specifically brought you here to try it. Don’t mind the place—it’s small, and of course, nothing like the grand restaurants in the capital, but the food here is truly excellent. This way, this way…” He lifted the curtain for his companion to enter first.

The swaying curtain finally fell back into place, and Wen Xin could finally breathe again.

Running into him so unexpectedly had completely thrown her off. She stood there for a long time, too stunned to move, unsure why she felt such an inexplicable sense of fear.

She wasn’t even sure what she was afraid of.

Just then, the mute kitchen assistant approached her, pressing a tray into her hands. On it were a plate of duck, two bowls of stewed duck soup, a small dish of appetizers, and a ceramic jug of rice wine.

“Mm-mm.” He gestured toward the room where the two men had gone before turning back toward the kitchen.

“Hey, wait—”

By the time Wen Xin reacted, he had already disappeared into the kitchen, leaving her standing there, tray in hand, hesitating.

Her mind was a chaotic mess. She was still shaken, her emotions tangled in knots. The memory of her crying on the train felt like it had just happened yesterday.

But time had a way of making distances grow. In just a matter of days, their separation had made everything feel so distant, so unfamiliar. She had finally begun to put everything from Beijing behind her, ready for a fresh start—so why did he have to appear here now?

If this had been before, she might have been able to put on an act and play along. But now, she didn’t want to pretend anymore. And even if she did, she doubted she could pull it off.

Gu Qingtong had just finished settling in the guests when she lifted the curtain and saw Wen Xin still standing there, tray in hand, looking dazed.

“Wen Xin, Wen Xin,” she called.

It took two tries before Wen Xin finally snapped out of it. “Huh?”

Gu Qingtong chuckled at her confused expression. “What are you standing around for? Take the food inside—that table over there.”

Wen Xin had always been quick and natural at serving guests, even better than Gu Qingtong herself. She had a way of making people feel at ease with her warm presence. Even if she didn’t say much, her gentle demeanor made guests feel welcome.

In this era, there were certainly men who behaved inappropriately, but few dared to be openly disrespectful—especially those with official positions. One bad rumor could cost them everything, so most of them maintained a certain level of propriety.

Another table of guests requested a refill of rice wine. The rice wine here was homemade, and it paired perfectly with the duck. It had a low alcohol content, making it easy to drink without getting drunk.

As Gu Qingtong went to fetch the wine, she glanced at Wen Xin again. She reached out to steady the tray in Wen Xin’s hands and said, “Hold the tray carefully, Wen Xin. That guy inside looks like someone important—you don’t want to spill anything on him.”

The bespectacled section chief might not have been very high-ranking, but his father was. And the man he had brought along? He was clearly someone of significance.

Judging by his demeanor and his accent, he was likely from the capital.

As soon as Gu Qingtong finished speaking, Wen Xin called out to her, “Qingtong-jie.”

Wen Xin looked a little uneasy. She furrowed her brows and hesitated before saying, “You… you should take this dish over instead. My stomach…”

She considered clutching her stomach to feign discomfort.

At that moment, someone in another room lifted the curtain and called out, “Xiao Gu, bring three bowls of clear soup and an extra plate of braised duck liver, quickly.”

Gu Qingtong acknowledged the request and hurried into the kitchen.

Wen Xin: “…”

Standing in the hall with a tray in her hands, she felt stuck—neither able to retreat nor move forward. The rich aroma of braised duck and rice wine wafted into her nose, making her wrinkle it slightly. In the end, she gritted her teeth and prepared to take the food inside. She wasn’t sure if this meeting was a mere coincidence or if he had come looking for her on purpose.

She had left Beijing in heartbreak, without a word to anyone, not even a proper farewell. It had been rude, and seeing him again now was undeniably awkward.

But she had already assumed a new identity, left the past behind, and severed ties with him. She no longer worked for his family and owed him nothing. What was there to be afraid of? She had no reason to seek anything from him anymore.

Taking a deep breath, she lifted the curtain with one hand and carried the tray inside with the other.

…

Gu Qingtong had carefully arranged the dining room for guests. The space had white walls and framed windows, a gray stone floor, and two sets of round redwood tables. A decorative wooden screen partitioned the room, dividing it into two smaller sections.

A few customers were already seated near the entrance, eating. As Wen Xin passed by, she glanced at them and offered a polite smile. One of the young men, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, visibly brightened at the sight of her. A faint flush crept up his face as he stared at her without blinking while she walked past.

…

Inside the partitioned section, two men were seated. The taller one with glasses was named Zhao Yan. He had been chatting non-stop, trying to liven the atmosphere, talking about Longzhou’s local customs, interesting folk tales, and how even a small town had its hidden charms.

“Zeyang, this place is different from Beijing. You might not expect it, but there are some hidden culinary gems tucked away in these alleys. I guarantee you won’t find anything like this in Beijing. Tomorrow, I’ll take you around—there are a few time-honored restaurants worth trying. Oh, and this place? Their duck is absolutely top-notch. You like duck, don’t you? You have to try it…”

…

“By the way, Zeyang, how long will you be staying this time? Your injury will take at least ten days to heal, right? Why don’t I call a few of our classmates who live nearby for a get-together? It’s been ages since we last saw each other, and everyone’s been asking about you…”

Zhao Yan was clearly making an effort to keep the conversation going, but the man beside him had remained silent ever since they entered. Instead, his expression grew darker and darker as he listened to the rowdy table next door—where men were laughing, drinking, and occasionally making comments about a certain “female comrade.”

His face was so stormy it looked like water might drip from it. Even Zhao Yan noticed the change and began speaking more cautiously. His old classmate hadn’t looked well when he arrived, but now, he looked downright terrifying.

Zhao Yan was from Beijing and had been classmates with Yan Zeyang in middle school. Back then, their school had its own cliques and social circles. Someone like Yan Zeyang—practically a little tyrant—had his own group and was a well-known figure on campus. Zhao Yan, however, belonged to a different circle, and they never really mingled.

At the time, there wasn’t much awareness of social class or hierarchy—friendships were simply based on personality and whether people got along. Though they had been classmates for three years, Zhao Yan and Yan Zeyang had never been particularly close.

Then came a period of upheaval. Zhao Yan’s father had been implicated in political struggles and was transferred out of Beijing, ending up in Longzhou. Though Zhao Yan and his father outwardly accepted their fate, they both longed to return to the capital. However, getting transferred back was far more difficult than being sent away.

No one wanted to be stuck in a small town forever. But without connections, making a move was nearly impossible.

So when Yan Zeyang unexpectedly contacted him, Zhao Yan had been thrilled.

These days, in Beijing’s military and elite circles, everyone knew the name Yan Zeyang. Though he spent most of his time in the army, his reputation as a “demon king” was legendary. He had made quite a name for himself, rising quickly in rank. His father’s rapid promotions and powerful position had left many former political enemies pretending to be friendly on the surface while secretly trembling in fear.

Zhao Yan kept up with news and gossip, so he had heard all about it. Just the other day, he had run into an old classmate and they had sighed, “If only we’d managed to get into Yan Zeyang’s circle back in school, we wouldn’t be stuck in this little town as low-ranking officials now.”

Everyone knew that Yan Zeyang fiercely protected those close to him. His old school friends who had stayed by his side had all been taken care of—transferred to good positions, promoted accordingly, and now thriving in Beijing’s upper circles.

Zhao Yan would be lying if he said he wasn’t envious.

So when Yan Zeyang reached out to him, he jumped at the opportunity. He even pulled some strings to borrow a car, hoping to make a good impression. But the first thing his old classmate said upon arrival was, “I want to eat duck. Where can I find the best duck?”

Immediately, Zhao Yan thought of this place.

Initially, he had planned to take Yan Zeyang to one of Longzhou’s high-end restaurants, like those in Jianxing, which even catered to foreign guests and had impeccable service.

Yet here they were, in a humble alleyway eatery instead.

Longzhou didn’t have much, but it had great food. The people here loved to eat, and they believed that money spent on good food was always worth it. Even an average household would take the time to cook their pickled vegetables to perfection. Small, hidden restaurants like this—affordable yet delicious—were not uncommon.

Zhao Yan had been worried that Yan Zeyang wouldn’t think much of this place, which was why he had been showering it with praise since they arrived. To be fair, the duck here really was exceptional, and he wasn’t exaggerating. The last time he had visited, the fish head soup had been incredible, too. He was confident that the meal wouldn’t disappoint.

When Wen Xin entered carrying the tray, Zhao Yan’s eyes lit up.

Wasn’t this the same delicate and charming young woman he had just seen standing in the main hall? Her slender fingers gripped the tray carefully, making it hard to look away.

When the young woman walked in, she wore a slightly shy smile.

Shy?

Wen Xin only offered a polite, professional smile without looking at the other party’s reaction. She silently placed the dishes and utensils on the table, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of a gaze fixed on her.

Gu Qingtong’s soup pot was small, but as soon as it was opened, a rich aroma wafted out. The portion was modest yet refined. The pre-meal dish of the day was osmanthus lotus root porridge, simmered over a low flame for an entire day until the lotus root water turned a delicate reddish hue. Rice was then added, followed by osmanthus flowers and a few pieces of rock sugar.

The result was a fragrant, sweet, and glutinous dish, while the few slices of duck meat looked exceptionally appetizing.

Zhao Yan warmly introduced the dish to his old friend. “The duck here is top-notch, you have to try it. Crispy on the outside, tender inside. The owner, Boss Gu, said the stew includes matsutake mushrooms, termitomyces mushrooms, and hexiang mushrooms—giving it an incredibly rich and lingering flavor. And the rice wine here is excellent too.”

As he diligently opened the lid of his friend’s soup pot and set it aside, he casually asked, “By the way, I heard you’re getting married soon? Your marriage report has already been submitted, right? When’s the wedding? The end of this year? Let us know when the time comes so we can celebrate with you. Everyone’s looking forward to drinking your wedding wine.”

The moment Wen Xin heard the word “marriage,” her hand trembled while holding the plate. This Zhao Yan—did he have to bring up the one thing no one wanted to hear? How did he even manage to become a section chief? She had no interest in listening to this topic. Quickly setting down the plate, she grabbed the serving tray and prepared to leave.

“Stop.”

A low voice rang out behind her. Though the volume was soft, the tone carried a familiar reprimand, laced with both annoyance and command.

Zhao Yan was stunned. He glanced at his old classmate, unsure why he had suddenly called out to the young lady. This didn’t seem like him at all. Back in school, Yan Zeyang had been extremely aloof toward female classmates. Plenty of girls had tried to talk to him or hand him things, but he had always ignored them.

And now, he was actually telling a complete stranger to stop?

Unbelievable.

The pretty young woman, with her delicate and rosy face, really did stop. She turned her big, blinking eyes toward him, looking a little timid yet inexplicably charming.

Yan Zeyang stared at her intently for a moment before speaking in a deep voice, “Come here. Pour the wine.”

Zhao Yan’s mouth fell slightly open. In this era, restaurants didn’t provide wine-pouring service. Even at department stores and state-run restaurants, the service was cold and indifferent—at best, they didn’t deliberately make things difficult for customers. Expecting them to pour wine? Dream on.

Wen Xin was irritated. She set the tray down on the table with a slight huff and walked over with pursed lips, curious about what he was up to. Picking up the wine pot, she poured a drink into his cup, then turned to pour for Zhao Yan.

Zhao Yan waved his hand hastily. “No need, no need.” He was almost flattered by the gesture, quickly taking the wine pot himself. “I can do it.”

Yan Zeyang said nothing. He simply picked up his cup and drank the wine in one gulp.

At that moment, someone at the next table peeked over and spotted Wen Xin. With a friendly smile, they called out, “Comrade Wen, when you’re done, come over for a moment. I’d like to introduce someone to you. He’s an editor at the Longzhou magazine—young, talented, and has already published several articles. I heard you’re planning to take the university entrance exam? You two are young people; you can exchange ideas and learn from each other…”

Before the man could finish speaking, Yan Zeyang abruptly slammed his cup onto the table with a loud “thud,” making Wen Xin jump in surprise.